


Death Becomes Us

by dleigh



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-10
Updated: 2005-01-10
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dleigh/pseuds/dleigh
Summary: Michael recounts the loss of Justin and subsequently, the loss of Brian.





	Death Becomes Us

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Beta by my good friend, Ardra Morrigan.

* * *

Your biggest fear was never dying in a plane crash or sitting stagnant and diseased in some hospice. 

Never anything like that. 

Your biggest fear ‘til this day, the thing that frightened you the most, was being here on this earth without Brian. You know it sounds weird, sounds so typical of an 80s angst-ridden song lyric, but that’s how you felt. You and Brian were Best Friends Forever, never to part... always there. Always-always. Que chorus.

And you know that the fear should have been the looming absence of Ben or the loss of your Mother. You can only imagine how stupid it may sound to some people but honestly, you just don't see yourself without him. Can’t see yourself without him, no matter how hard you try. You could probably get along without him – of course you could pass the days without him – you just wouldn’t want to. 

When you imagine it – maybe you’d die first – your thoughts are plagued with the question of who would take care of him. Who'd answer the late night calls? Who'd drag him home from the bars when he got into one of his moods? Who would love him unconditionally, and who would be the one to break himself being everything he thinks he doesn’t want somebody to be. You found comfort in knowing that it would be Justin who would do all these things.

When he and Justin became what they became, whatever they became, the troubling question eased up a little. Although you and Brian would always be always, Justin had taken his rightful place beside him. And you know now that you couldn’t have wanted it any other way, because it went the way it had to go. You’re positive that it shouldn't have gone any other way.

It was raining that day, August 15, 2007. You stood there, barely, Ben’s strong hand nestled in your left, the wobbling elbow of your hysterical mother clutched firmly in your right. She stood weeping, loudly proclaiming her disdain for the whole production. 

"He was too young to go! Goddammitt!!!" Her wailing carried over the graveside, through the minister's sermon, to your house that night where you all would gather. One long cry uninterrupted by time.

Your stomach churned, standing there, staring across the casket. Looking at him, looking at his mother; looking at Molly clutching her mother’s side. Ms. Taylor stood stoically, holding Molly tightly. Never faltering, never wavering. Daphne was there as well. You felt so sorry for her, so sorry that she lost her best friend. It chilled you to the bone thinking of the day someone would be feeling sorry for you. 

You all saw Justin's father whispering to Jennifer as the service came to an end, and it made you angry on Justin’s behalf. Craig stood touching Jennifer, almost holding her shoulders, his head bowed in sorrow. Wrong, so wrong. “A little too late for the tears,” your mother spat. Justin never advertised, but they all knew that bastard couldn't be counted on for anything while Justin was alive. Refused to accept him, love him, even acknowledge him for what he was… and yet, at his son’s death, the bastard still cried. What right did he have to shed tears now, after all the pain he’d caused? And what were they really for? The loss of his only son, or the disappointment of barely knowing him at all?

Maybe he regretted never wanting to know him in the first place.

The service soon ended, and you stood talking with the guys. Wiping the tears you’d been unable to control, you all stood dumbfounded. No one could believe it. No one could understand it. It was too horrible and unthinkable. Emmett was practically inconsolable. Teddy cried silently while trying to comfort him. Lindsey and Melanie held onto each other, having been back together for a couple of years. Gus and Jenny were with a babysitter as everyone thought it best they stayed away.

It'd been like this for the past four days. 

Struck down before, he had triumphed, coming back to all of you, to Brian. Only to have fate come back with a vengeance to take what was rightfully hers. Everyone always knew that Justin had something in him. Striving to be the best, to overcome all the crap that life dealt to him and Jesus, that kid just bounced back, more resilient than ever. You wondered how Jennifer would be able to survive this. You also wondered if Brian could. Looking to your Mother you just hoped that she would go before you. 

Brought back to reality, the reality of being pelted by the beating rain as we walked away from the graveside, my mother whispered, "He should be here."

You knew he wouldn't be. You knew there's no way in hell that Brian would show up. No way in hell that he'd be able. You knew this as sure as anything because, come time, there'd be no way you could handle it with Ben.

But still… before you get in the car you look back, just to see if, you know, maybe, he’d show up at the very end…

All you see is Jennifer kneeling and placing a bunch of lilies on top of the coffin.

***

Your mother told you what happened, days ago, when she and Jennifer went to the loft. Found Brian sitting on the couch in jeans and a t-shirt rolling a joint, the stereo blasting. They'd knocked but Brian couldn't hear them, so they let themselves in. Pulling the door back on its tracks, they heard him call out, not bothering to look in the direction of the door, "Justin, it's about fucking time you got here. What took you so long?"

When he heard no response, he glanced in their direction. Your mother told you that his smile vanished upon seeing her, seeing Jennifer there as well…and their tear stained faces. Brian froze. One second passed, one beat, then as if on cue, Brian nodded his head. Accepting it all, it seemed. 

Debbie tried to go to him but he held out his hand stiffly, stopping her from coming near. Jennifer was not as fortunate, she didn’t know any better and needing comfort from her son's lover, she moved swiftly. Approaching Brian, weeping, she went to stand in front of him. 

"Don't," he said, standing, pushing her arms away from his neck as they tried to grab hold. 

"He's gone...My God, he's gone, Brian," Jennifer wept. 

For a few seconds longer, Brian continued to push her away, shouting, “No!” Jennifer clung to him tightly, despite his protests and with a lurch he grabbed hold of her.

It was a car accident. An unexpected, unbelievable, and heartbreakingly unfair accident. Justin’s death left everyone reeling and wondering what this life we have was really all for.

It had been raining and the roads were slick. Rush hour had just started as he made his way home to meet up with Brian. His wasn’t the only life lost that day on the freeway pile up but his was the one that would change your life forever.

 

***

As you made your way back to your cars, hushed voices expressed concern for the one absent person. The one person who should have been here but was not, the one person nobody could fault for his absence. You thought about going by the loft, but you knew that your knock would go unanswered. You knew that any more phone calls, and any new messages sent to him would also go unanswered. God, you wanted to be there for him. You wanted to try and comfort him, be his rock as he was always yours. But what you wanted and what Brian needed were never the same. So you waited him out. Or tried to.

A few nights later found you unable to let Brian grieve in his own way. You were concerned; concerned like everybody else, and maybe a little bit more. You of all people know Brian the most, and coming with that was the frightening knowledge of exactly what he’d be capable of. 

You know that if you walked in seeing… that… again, it would kill you, too.

So you did drop by the loft, casually, and weren’t surprised that he wasn’t there to answer the door, or to complain about you letting yourself in. Glancing upward and around quickly, you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you’d held, and started checking. Whatever you’d expected to see deep down – half of you thought, “Swinging corpse,” and the other thought, “Massive orgy,” your fears had not been fulfilled. The place was empty. As you let yourself back out, setting the alarm, you knew where he was. There was only one place he could be.

It was on the freshly packed earth that you finally found him - sitting cross- legged, a bottle of Jim Beam at his side, keeping a solitary watch over Justin. He didn't hear you coming, and if he did, you'll never know. His back was to you and you couldn't help but overhear him. In broken sobs, Brian pleaded for Justin’s return. "Please, I can’t do it, Justin. I, I can’t…" 

Standing under an oak tree, you actually heard his heart breaking. "I was waiting for you, you know. Jesus, I'm always waiting for you. I've always been waiting for you."

Clearing your throat to make your presence known, you see Brian's back straighten up from its hunch. He knows it’s you. The bottle raises and he takes a big swig and whispers, "Mikey."

You walk to him, slowly, so afraid of what you'll see… pain you cannot fix or whisper away like many times past when he's come to you for his cleansing. 

"Come sit with me, Mikey," he said.

You did, and the two of you sat there in silence until Brian broke it. 

"I knew it was all too good to be true. I know I never deserved him, but Jesus fuck, I wanted him." 

Looking at you from across the mound of earth that cradled Justin you could do nothing but be silent. What could you say to that? To him? There was nothing to say.

He went on. "You know that old saying, ‘You never know what you have until it’s gone?’ Well, that’s bullshit. I know what I had. I always knew."

Like you always did, you tried to rationalize, normalize. "It's late. You have to go to work tomorrow, Brian." 

A million miles away, your mention of work was not in his sphere of understanding. His hands sifted listlessly through the cold dirt. 

"Do you believe in all that church bullshit, Mikey? The passing on stuff?”

You knew your beliefs were not the important part of that question. You had to get him up and out of there as fast as possible. Reaching down to wrap your arms around him, pulling at his shoulders so that you could take him home, he batted them away. 

"I cut myself shaving that afternoon." His voice so final and breathy that you almost didn't know what he was talking about. Almost.

Placing your hand to his shoulder, you whispered, "Brian, come on. Please."

He looked up at you from the ground. "I was in the bathroom shaving. It was a shit week and we were just going to hang out, have dinner and catch up. I had just gotten out of the shower…I expected him at any time. All of a sudden I got this cold chill, shot straight up my spine and I nicked my throat. It bled like a motherfucker. That little asshole let me know...he saw me one more time before he left."

When he said that, you stopped. Gulping deep breaths and willing those tears away, you knew that maybe he'd been drinking too much, enough to get maudlin and metaphorical, like the deepest, darkest part of his bouts. Maybe you should have let him be, let him sit there as long as he wanted to… as long as he needed to… But you also knew that he’d be right back here again tomorrow, and the next day, keeping watch.

You knew you couldn’t change history, and that you couldn’t change Brian, either. At that point you just wanted to throw the life preserver out to him, ground him, let him know that you were there and you cared. You knew he would recognize it for what it was. He always did. 

"I’ll see you in a minute. Take your time. I’ll be in the car." The corvette could sit overnight, until you gave in and brought him back in the morning. As you were walking through the graves, back to your car, you heard his reply.

"I'll be right there." 

At the time, you just thought that he was answering you, letting you know he’d be along, he just needed a few more minutes. 

It was a year and a day later that you realized what he'd meant.

***

Thinking back on all the times you and Brian spent together, all the times that you were there for him and he was there for you, you remembered what he'd said. 

"If I ever get hurt or get it, or whatever, put me out of my misery, Mikey." 

The first time he told you anything like that both of you were 17, about to graduate. It was ominous and creepy and completely out of context. He was at your house, in your bedroom, just listening to records. He stared at himself in the mirror, twisting the tie his mother was making him wear to graduation tightly around his neck while you sat on the bed flipping through a comic book, he came at you with it.

Looking at you through your startled reflection in the mirror, he went on. "You have to promise that you'll let me go, when it's my time."

"Brian!" you'd shouted at him, really scared.

Turning around to face you he said, "Mikey, there's no way I'm sticking around when I don't have to, so don’t expect it. I don't ever want to be pathetic. I'd rather lie down in front of a semi than sit around waiting."

At this you sat stunned, unable to comprehend the fact that there might be a time without him, that he’d want to leave you alone in this world. 

“Mikey, I want to die young and beautiful, you know that. Besides, when you’re dead, you’re never more beautiful to those around you.”

One of the last times you and he discussed it was when you both agreed to pull each other’s plug. Though you agreed, you hoped it’d never come to that…you don’t know if you could actually wrench the life from the one person whom you thought gave yours meaning.

***

Over the very brief years that Justin was here, you slowly came to understand their need for each other. They were possibly the most dysfunctional couple you would ever know, but your feelings, or the feelings of the others, didn’t matter to them. They were happy being what they were, and fuck everyone else. They were happy. 

If you were allowed to have an opinion of them, which very few were, the opinion you'd offer would be in their favor. They simply had no use for anything other than approval.

Oftentimes, it seemed that they’d spent more time breaking up than had actually been together. When either one of them vented to you about the other, “It’s fucking over! I can’t do it anymore,” You’d shake your head and say okay and let them rail on, knowing that within a day or two you’d see them together again. That was the thing with them, it was all or nothing. What they had would never go away quietly. It was them against the world and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Like any of you would have had it any other way.

You remember a time not that long ago when you wished Justin never existed. Never came and ran roughshod over your lives and into Brian's. Before he came, there was you and only you. And after, there was him and only him, and you basically got pushed to the wayside. 

It had angered you, to say the least, that he usurped your place beside the great Brian Kinney, because you were so sure in the beginning that he’d just fade away. That was the way it had always worked – Brian took what he wanted, disposed of the remainder, and moved on while the tricks piled up like dead leaves behind him. This one wouldn’t play his part, though, wouldn’t be used up and tossed out at all; he just fucking stayed. It was unbelievable. 

After a while, though, it got believable, because things were always happening and soon it was hard to recall a time when he hadn’t been along for the ride. Especially now, especially today, you find it strangely comforting that the time before Justin seems harder and harder to remember.

***

You and the others waited for the inevitable. Waiting for Brian to fall. When he didn't, well, you're sorry to admit it, but it made you highly suspect. You all knew how Brian was, what he does when he’s hurt. You expect the late night calls, the overabundance of sex and drugs, the resulting incapacitation. You expect and prepare yourself for all the tears you will cry because of Brian's pain. All of you, the entire extended-makeshift-family, take your turn on the suicide watch. You expect a broken Brian. You need to see the brokenness in Brian so you know that he’s still in there somewhere. It gives you more comfort to see a hurting Brian, than a Brian that’s not there at all.

Increasingly, you find yourself sitting around waiting for the phone call or surprise visit, whisking you away with him to a secret place so he can do what he needs to do. You anticipate his need for you to accompany him, purging himself of the Justin version of a bowling ball. The call or visit, it never comes. 

You let yourself think that he worked it out, allowed himself a grieving period, because it was just a short while until he started coming back. Aloof and quiet, of course, but still out there for the world to see – back at work, back to the bars and the clubs, but maybe not all the way back, in your eyes. 

You refused to acknowledge the deadness in his eyes, his methodical actions though recognizable. It was very selfish of you to turn the blind eye you know this, but at the time you couldn’t think of any other way to love him. 

The only time he seemed at peace was when he was with Gus. 

You can only guess what it was Brian did, and how he grieved, because you have no clue. He never called you, never sought you out in need. He didn't push you away when you came looking for him but he never once came looking for you, and thinking about that scared the shit out of you.

Life didn’t wait for you to get over your fear. It just kept going, and soon things were back to normal. The sun rose and it set and though things had changed for all of you, life went on. 

Except.

Towards the end, you think you should have seen it coming. There were the times that you went by to check on him, letting yourself in, and he was there in body but not in spirit. You'd see him sitting on the couch, shaking, with head in hands. 

You'd see him in bed with a young guy, blond and lithe; moving mechanically, maybe, but at least he was still moving. 

No matter what he looked like, or what he was doing, you'd see him and just exhale that breath you'd been holding, because at least you'd seen him. Then, you’d quietly let yourself back out, breathing a half-sigh of relief that today he was still alive. And life went on.

Again, your selfishness is not lost.

***

At five minutes to five on a Thursday afternoon, you were sitting at the counter of the shop, rereading your favorite Captain Astro and trying to forget that it was the anniversary of Justin’s death. Unexpectedly, a cold chill ran up your spine and made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You froze as the tingling passed through your fingers, watched fearfully as the pages of the comic bristled as if a breeze had passed them by. A cool whisper of air graced your cheek and then it was gone.

When the tears began to fall, you knew. You knew that he was gone. The chill that ran through you and the air that blew around you was him. He came to say goodbye before he left.

You weren’t surprised to hear it was a car accident, but it wasn’t until later that you found out that it was planned. The driver of the tractor-trailer was barely hurt, but the corvette and its driver… well, you know who won that competition. 

He left you a note – of course he did, how could he not get the last word – saying he was sorry, but it was time for him to go, because there was someone waiting for him who needed him now more than ever. He’d made so many plans, so many arrangements for everyone. You, Gus, Lindsay, and even Debbie were all in line for a slice of the Brian pie, and it was all taken care of. All his affairs were in order, cash hidden in the loft for expenses, his will updated and complete.

On a final note, Brian expressed that it was up to you to make sure that Gus grew up knowing he was loved, and to provide the father figure he would so desperately need. “Please tell him that I loved him…” he scribbled around a blotch on the paper. “Make sure he knows that.”

The day of the service, the sun shone so brightly you had to cover your eyes while you stood at your best friend's grave crying shamelessly for your loss. You hated the looks of sympathy and all the things the others were thinking but unable to say to you. 

You stood there long after all had gone, watching them lower Brian into the ground, away from you forever. Reaching down, you grabbed a handful of fresh dirt and cast it into the hole, watching it hit the casket top. What was once your biggest fear is now a reality; you’re left here, alone, without Brian. As much as you think you should be scared, you’re not. It brings a strange secret smile to your face as you think, "It won't be the same without you. Tell Justin hello for me."

It's not and it shouldn't be, couldn't be. Life goes on as unbearable as it may seem, it does go on. Before turning around to head back to your car, where Ben sits waiting, thank God for Ben, you give one final look at the grave which has now been filled while you were lost in thought. “You were right, Brian,” you said, “You were never more beautiful than you are now.”


End file.
